


The Dark Cabin

by Monkess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-13 04:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/820045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkess/pseuds/Monkess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry, age 14, wants to visit his grandfather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Henry's First Visit

**Author's Note:**

> The writing's a bit dodgy because I'm writing this exclusively while commuting :D
> 
> Rated teen based on my feels about the matter.

In Storybrooke, all the citizens of the town were waiting for a batch of new magic beans to grow. By an amazing feat of the Blue Fairy’s magic the beans that needed dozens of years of cultivation before harvest had managed to sprout into a full field twice now, but sadly the dwarf mines had been depleted of all the diamonds that turned into Fairy Dust, so now there was nothing to do except let time pass.

Henry was fourteen now. He’d had a growth spur and was all long and awkward limbs now. Once summer had begun – the most peaceful summer in four years – he’d found out that he’d outgrown his bicycle. Although he loved his horse, he still preferred the bike for getting through town, because it didn’t wander off when left alone. And truth be told, Henry didn’t feel as secure riding a horse very fast, as he did on the back of his bike when he pedaled downhill as fast as he could.

And he was going on a little trip longer than usual anyhow…

The mothers each thought that he was with the other mother. Henry was sure that the ruse would probably be caught by lunch time the latest when one or the other would demand to know what they were giving him for lunch or some other nonsense. Then they would get more than a little hysterical and start tracking him with werewolves and dwarves, but not before they’d call him and he’d tell them that he was really in the woods with his bike and that he’d be back in town in the afternoon.

The roads in the woods were quiet because no one had any reason to drive up there. Henry knew the way only by the memory of a single visit, but he wasn’t afraid of getting lost. It was still early in the day, not too hot, but pedaling all the hills up and after such a long drive, he was beginning to feel quite warm by the time he found his destination.

There was a cabin in the forest and behind it was a lake, which was very still and serene on a windless, cloudless summer morning. Outside of it was Henry’s grandfather’s unmistakable Cadillac. Henry left his bike a little further away from the cabin and left it under a tree, before he warily closed the distance between himself and the door, which he knocked.

It didn’t take very long before the door opened, revealing Henry’s brightly beaming step-grandmother Belle in a blue sundress and a book in her hand.

“Oh, Henry! How nice to see you!” Belle exclaimed and pulled the door further open invitingly. She then peered over Henry’s shoulder into the forest beyond. “It’s just you?” She asked, confused.

“Just me,” Henry reassured her. “I’m fourteen already. I don’t need my mother to go with me everywhere,” he added.

Belle nodded and let Henry slip inside past her. She then closed the door and made her way to the little kitchenette in the cabin and started going through the cupboards in a search for something to offer him. “I hope you like…” she found something that looked like treats, “… eucalyptus cough mints?” Belle held the bag towards Henry who picked one dutifully, and put it in his pocket.

 “Thanks but can I have a glass of water?” He asked. “It took me almost an hour to get here on my bike.”

“Of course,” Belle replied and filled up a very big blue and white tea mug from a pitcher of water from the fridge that had lemon slices floating in it. “Did you like lemon?” She asked as she handed the mug to Henry.

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine,” Henry accepted the mug and proceeded to empty all its contents as swiftly as he could.

“You should bring water with you if you’re going out on adventures on hot summer days,” Belle chided him gently as she re-filled the mug and watched him drink more.

“You’re right,” Henry admitted, nodding. His thirst sated, he gave the mug back.

“I’ll get you a bottle of water before you leave,” she promised him and put the pitcher back in the fridge and washed up the mug. “So what goes on in Storybrooke?” Belle asked as she rinsed the tea mug.

“I think a lot of people would like to see you back in town,” Henry said. “Archie and Red and… you know.”

Belle nodded and wiped dry her mug next. “I miss people too. I’ll have a chance to see everyone when I drive back tomorrow and get some groceries.”

“So why did you come up here?” Henry asked. His casual voice broke into a worried follow-up question. “Is there trouble with the townspeople?”

Belle put the mug and the linen towel aside and shook her head, biting her lower lip gently. “No, I thought we’d need some more space and quiet, that’s all.”

Henry looked around the cabin. “Where’s granpa?” He asked.

“Somewhere outside, having an existential discussion with himself. Do you want to see him?” Belle asked warily.

“Yes,” Henry replied with certainty. “He’s my grandfather.”

“I think he should be somewhere close to the lake,” Belle said. “Do you want me to come with?”

Henry shook his head. “No need,” he said with a grin, and headed for the door.

“Come back by noon, there’ll be quiche for lunch,” said Belle, who reseated herself in a cosy chair by a cold fireplace and reopened her book.

Just as he was opening the door and letting himself out, Henry hesitated and turned about to ask Belle once more question.

“Does an aneurysm hurt?” Henry asked her.

Belle looked up from her book and smiled sadly. “He didn’t tell me.” She sunk her head again behind the book. It was a medical one.

 

 ***

Henry followed Belle’s advise and went out to circle around the still, serene lake. He looked around for the dark silhouette of a Mr Gold he’d known all his life, but he was nowhere in sight. Henry was used to thinking of him as Mr Gold, he still found it hard to articulate his grandfather’s real name sometimes. He’d also noticed that other people felt equally uncomfortable calling Rumpelstiltskin by his real name. Like Snow White for example.

There was no sign of Henry’s grandfather in any case, so Henry wondered whether or not he should get worried.

“Granpa!” Henry called out for him. “Granpa!”

It turned out that Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t yet met a rather anticlimactic demise by having another aneurysm or a heart-attack on a perfectly pleasant summer’s morning, for his head along with the rest of him peered up from the midst of tall grass and other wildly growing weeds, and he didn’t seem altogether too delighted by the surprise visitor at first. Henry also thought it seemed rather uncharacteristic for his grandfather The Rumpelstiltskin to be lying amongst the field flowers and grass, but there you had it.

Rumpelstiltskin, or Mr Gold, or Henry’s grandfather didn’t stand up. Henry wondered where his cane was, and if that was perhaps the reason why he was lying on the ground, and Henry also thought of running back to the cabin and getting Belle, but Rumpelstiltskin didn’t seem to be dying of another aneurysm or a heart-attack, in fact he seemed like Henry had interrupted him in the middle of a nap, so Henry proceeded cautiously forwards. He spied the golden-handled cane lying on the grass just within Rumpelstiltskin’s reach, and so Henry’s worries were laid to rest.

“Did I wake you up?” Henry asked his grandfather, who was still staring back at him like there was something alarming about him. He looked a little not-exactly himself with just a dark blue button-up shirt and no tie at all, his sleeves pulled back up to his elbows.

After an awkward pause, Rumpelstiltskin replied. “No, I was just… looking at the sky. Is your father here with you?”

Henry shook his head. “I came on my own. With my bike.”

“And does your father know where you are?” Rumpelstiltskin asked.

“Not exactly. I think they’ll call me soon and ask me,” Henry said, his good nature beaming through his smile.

“You do know they’re not exactly thrilled at the idea of you seeing me,” Rumpelstiltskin said, his suspicious nature instead characterizing his voice.

“Yes, but I don’t… maybe care so much about that right now. I wanted to see you.” Henry said.

Rumpelstiltskin looked at him with his eyes in a thoughtful half-squint.

“So…” Henry said. “I saw you in the hospital” - Rumpelstiltskin’s face flinched at that word - “once when you were unconscious. I wanted to see if you’re better.”

Rumpelstiltskin looked across the lake. “No internal bleeding and still conscious,” he said with a sing-song voice.

“Do you know what caused it?” Henry asked next.

Henry thought it strange to hear Rumpelstiltskin laugh, which is what he did next. “Likely the fact that people aren’t meant to live over three hundred years.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense.”

 

*** 

 

Belle put the book away from her hands and got up from the cozy reading chair. She found she couldn’t delve too deep into any reading before her mind started wandering. She gave up with the book she’d brought with her from the library the week before, and decided she’d start working on the quiche, because the pastry would need some time to thaw before she could work it into the tin. She’d wanted to make a quiche because it was very much some of the things she’d eaten once upon a time in her father’s house in a land far far away.

As she worked, she looked out the window and saw the very distant shapes of Henry and Rumpelstiltskin near the lake. Belle couldn’t help but smile, seeing Rumpelstiltskin sit amongst the grass like that.

Belle daydreamed a few minutes away until the dial tone of Rumpelstiltskin’s phone woke her up from her reverie. She screened all his calls in case there was someone particularly distressing at the other end of the line, which tended to be the case. When Belle picked up the phone and saw Regina’s name flashing on the screen, Belle sighed wearily and pressed the green button.

“Hello,” Belle said without amicability or animosity, trying to sound perfectly distant and tranquil. She listened to the short but energetic tirade.

“He’s here, in fact, no need to worry,” Belle said, cutting Regina short of finishing a sentence, and putting her on the track of a new one.

“Maybe you should ask David to come pick him up instead, Henry is on his bike and you can’t fit that into your car,” Belle reasoned. She hoped her suggestion would work, since she vastly preferred David to Regina.

The conversation was quiet for a while, and then Regina declared she would call David next.

“Alright. There’s no hurry. Oh, what is he doing? I’m watching through the window and I see him sitting by the lake. Yes, you do that. Alright. Bye.”

Belle threw the phone down on a cushion because it had just held Regina’s voice, so the natural instinct was to fling the phone that had made her suffer through the phone call. Then Belle took a small white medicine container from a shelf, filled a mug with water, and stepped out of the shady indoors into the bright sunshine.

Sunshine was what Belle thought also of when she saw Rumpelstiltskin beam at her the moment he noticed her approaching, and Belle wished that her smile made him feel like his did: warm and happy. When Henry saw her, he waved at Belle, and Belle waved him back in greeting.

“Henry, where’s your phone? Regina’s tried to call you,” Belle said first thing when she was within hearing distance. “She wants David to come pick you up, you and your bike.”

Henry shrugged off his shoulder bag, from wherein he found his phone - muted and with twelve missed calls. “I… I probably should call them back.” He took on his feet and ambled off a little way away.

Belle leaned down and pecked a kiss on Rumpelstiltskin’s articulated cheekbone. “Here, I brought you a snack,” she said, and presented him with the water and the white plastic bottle.

He gave her such a weary sigh, Belle had to sit down next to him after he accepted the mug and the so-called snack. He took a white pill from the bottle and swallowed it with the water. She watched him carefully as he did that, trying to fathom the unfathomable expression of sorrow mingled with darkness on his face. She took the mug from him before pecking another short kiss on his cheek, closer to lips this time, and he turned a little to meet her halfway.

“It’ll keep you away from the hospital,” Belle said softly.

“I know, I know,” he said, sounding a little irritated.

“I’ll go back inside and call David. Find out what time he’ll be here.” Belle sprung back up on her just as Rumpelstiltskin caught her hand in his briefly, loosely. “How was your walk?” Belle asked him.

“Same trees in the bloody forest as yesterday,” Rumpelstiltskin replied. Belle smiled bravely, knowing it was irritation directed at something else.

“Perhaps not the best time for a social call.” She ran her fingers gently through his hair. “I’ll send the Charmings off as soon as I can.”

Belle heard him thank her with a subdued voice, and then she returned back to the cabin.

 

*** 

 

After a brief checkup by phone with Regina, Henry had a short talk with Emma, which had thankfully soon taken a detour from taking off without telling anyone to the topic of maybe him getting a new bicycle. When that conversation ended, Henry tucked his phone away and saw Belle had retreated to the cabin.

Henry walked back to his singularly interesting grandfather, and recalled how much he’d seen Belle cry in the hospital. Henry wondered if his grandpa knew how much. Probably not, because he’d not been altogether there. Neal had said nothing upsetting should be said to grandpa, and Henry could guess anything related to crying probably was categorized under Upsetting.

But how did you start a non-upsetting conversation with Rumpelstiltskin?

“How did you meet Belle?” Henry asked.

This seemed to bring a rather thoughtful yet grumpy old grandpa back to a more present-tense grandpa with the other qualities still attached.

“Hmm. I killed a few ogres so she’d come and clean my castle,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“You had a castle?” Henry asked, fascinated. He sat down on the grass.

“Oh yes,” said Rumpelstiltskin, he seemed less enthused about the topic.

“So how come she didn’t appear in Storybrooke before Emma broke the curse?” Henry asked.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. “Maybe we should talk about something else.”

“Does it hurt to have an aneurysm?” Henry asked next.

“Splitting headaches before and after,” his grandpa replied matter-of-factly.

“Was it painkillers you just took?” Henry asked, curious because they hadn’t looked like painkillers to him.

“No, that was for my blood pressure, which I hear is morbidly high. Did you drive your bike all the way up here to talk about my medication?”

Henry grinned and shook his head. “No, I just wanted to see you. You know, just to be with you,” he said.

When Rumpelstiltskin gave him a very odd look in reply, Henry got worried, believing he’d just said something that went under the category of Upsetting. “Are you having another aneurysm?” he asked.

The expression on his grandpa’s face changed back into his more normal self. “No. Probably the opposite. So what else do you want to know?”

Henry glanced back at the cabin. “Are you going to marry Belle?” Henry asked.

“If I don’t die first,” Rumpelstiltskin said, and leaned back on the grass.

“I like her,” said Henry, imitating his grandpa. It was a very blue sky up above them.

“We have that in common,” Rumpelstiltskin admitted.

“What was it like when you were fourteen?” Henry asked.

He could practically feel Rumpelstiltskin tense again at that question, like Henry had pulled an invisible string. The things that went under the category of Upsetting were somewhat confusing when it came to his grandpa, Henry thought, and looked at him with concern.

“Why do you ask that?” Rumpelstiltskin asked with a slow, voice intonation.

“Cos I’ve turned fourteen! It happened while you were sleeping in the hospital.”

“That’s how old your father was when I lost him,” Rumpelstiltskin said, still subdued.

 “Oh. Sorry,” Henry said, not knowing exactly what to say. He tried to imagine himself, except being Neal, stranded and all alone far away from everyone he knew.

 “I can’t remember everything, you know. Not in high detail. It has been over three hundred years since I was fourteen,” Rumpelstiltskin replied, at length. “I can let you in on a secret, though,” he said, now a familiar trace of intrigue and mischief in his voice.

“Oh yes?” Henry asked.

“I’m fourteen at heart,” Rumpelstiltskin said merrily, and Henry laughed.

“Did you really spin straw to gold?” Henry asked next.

“Indeed I did,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

“And you helped grandpa David and Snow to find each other,” Henry said, out of the interest of reminding his grandpa that he’d done something good.

“Purely out of self-interest,” Rumpelstiltskin assured him.

“David’s coming to pick me up,” Henry said. “I think he doesn’t know what to make of you.”

“Hmm?”

“Like if you’re a villain or a hero,” Henry explained.

A moment passed. “A lot more former than the latter,” Rumpelstiltskin surmised.

 

*** 

 

David answered his phone in his car when Belle called him. He was already on his way and thought he wouldn’t take longer than twenty minutes. Unhappy with that, Belle cordially wished him a safe drive anyway, and cut the conversation short in order to start chopping mushrooms and broccoli for the quiche.

Belle thought it a pity that they didn’t trust Henry with Rumpelstiltskin. Her intuition told her that Rumpelstiltskin did like his young grandson’s company, and wouldn’t have minded more of it. But Henry was only fourteen, and given the fact that Rumpelstiltskin was Rumpelstiltskin, magic or not, Belle could hardly blame anyone for mistrusting him.

Even she did, after all. Sometimes. And that was perfectly healthy too, considering what a slippery thing her True Love might be when push came to shove. And she couldn’t blame him for that either, knowing what she knew. And she had optimism, and hope, and faith, and love.

She looked at the Terrible Machine on the kitchen table for a moment, absently still wielding the kitchen knife. Four weeks ago she hadn’t known exactly what such a thing as blood pressure was, but now she was quite well aware of what it meant. She kept a log in a notebook of the numbers that came out of the Terrible Machine. She also had a small reference card of the numbers that the machine ought to show, which were much much smaller than the tally of numbers in her notebook.

The information she’d found on the subject had said that Rumpelstiltskin should have been hospitalized, but he was far worse in there than outside.

So they were up here, away from everything as much was that was possible without leaving the enchanted town line of Storybrooke. Belle had deprived Rumpelstiltskin of his cigarettes, of red meat, and his occasional glass of whiskey. She either accompanied him or sent him for walks around the lake, supervising him from the window of the cabin when she didn’t join him.

It amused her how much of it reminded her of their old routines in the Dark Castle. That had been over thirty years ago, Belle thought with wonder. Granted, most of that time had been spent in a cursed stupor. And they’d survived that. They’d survive this too, Belle had decided. They would have to.

The phone she’d flung on the cushions earlier rang again, and Belle left the lunch preparations in order to answer. This time it was Baelfire. Neal. One or the other. Belle loved every opportunity to speak with him, truth be told, and didn’t regret answering the phone.

“Hello, it’s Belle.” She as she spoke and walked around in a small circle by the window overlooking the driveway, anticipating David’s arrival soon. “Oh he’s fine. Did you hear he drove all the way on his bike? They’re by the lake. Yes, he’s fine too.” Belle walked over to the table and opened the notebook of numbers. “I mean, not perfect. But he’s breathing. Mm. Mm. Yes. It’s starting to take effect I think. Do you want to come see him tomorrow? I’ll be back in town all day doing laundry and shopping. You can make sure he doesn’t walk straight into the lake after I leave.” Belle sighed and listened for a while. “Of course he’s upset,” she said. “No I don’t think Dr Whale can help any further. Yes, I know.” Belle walked back to the window. “Mm. That was partially my fault. But I think I have to go now, I can see David coming now. See you tomorrow? Alright. Thank you. Until tomorrow.”

As the call ended, Belle saw David and Snow White getting out of David’s car. Those two were practically inseparable, Belle thought. She went outside to greet them, feeling a bit anxious. The whole visit was about a pair of loving grandparents saving their only grandson from a pair of… what was it Belle and Rumpelstiltskin were, Belle wondered?

But Belle was cordial in greeting them, just as they were friendly greeting her back. “Henry’s bike must be over there,” Belle pointed out at the only bicycle in sight. She rather thought she wanted one too, at some point.

“I’ll just go and get Henry,” Belle said next. She didn’t want to invite the Charmings inside just at the moment. And her Rumpelstiltskin was in pain and he was weak, and she didn’t want them to see him or talk to him or upset him. Had it been possible, Belle would have made herself a dragonscale blanket and wrapped Rumpelstiltskin underneath, safe from all the world.

 

***

 

"How many ogres have you killed in total?" Henry inquired from his most curious of grandfathers (the more curious one of the two he had), "In three hundred years?"

Rumpelstiltskin rolled his eyes. "I didn't count."

"Can you still spin straw to gold?" Henry asked next.

"I'm afraid not," Rumpelstiltskin replied, sounding slightly irate. Henry wasn't sure what to say to him anymore. His presence danced between distant bemusement and frustrating curtness, back and forth. Henry looked aside, worried, and perhaps Rumpelstiltskin caught his grandson's concern off his face then.

"I seem to have a headache all the time," he said conversationally and apologetically, and Henry almost wanted to beam a smile at him for that, but smiling at someone's headache might have been considered less than well-meaning, so Henry contained himself.

"I'm sorry you do. Is it getting any better though?" Henry asked.

Rumpelstiltskin didn't admit anything with his words or his body language. Then he gave Henry a gentle smile. "Thank you."

Henry wanted to say it wasn't over yet, but then he looked towards the cabin and saw David and Mary Margaret near the house.

"You know, if you're coming here for another visit, you should bring me some cigarettes," Rumpelstiltskin said, and pulled out a green bill from his back pocket, which he slipped into Henry's palm so deftly Henry barely noticed the thing before he was holding it.

Henry stared at his grandfather mutely for a moment. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said, but grinned anyway, saying it.

"I've nothing but good ideas," Rumpelstiltskin assured with a degree of deadpan irony that reminded Henry of a Mr Gold who had had a pawn shop.

Soon Belle appeared from behind the house and approached them across the meadow flowers and grass.

"David and Mary Margaret will give you a ride back to town," Belle said as soon as she was within hearing distance. She seemed a little less happy than she had before, when she had first opened the door when Henry had arrived.

"Alright. Thanks for the mint and the water," Henry replied. He took his bag and put it on his shoulder.  
"See you later, granpa!" Henry grinned, and allowed to be escorted away by Belle, who regarded him with a curious expression, Henry realized.

"Did I see you slip money into your pocket?" Belle asked, her voice pleasant.

Henry was taken aback by how swiftly he'd been caught.

"N-no," he tried to sound convincing.

"If it's for smokes, then please don't get him any. Buy yourself a treat instead. Next time you come back, you can tell him I confiscated the cigarettes you bought." Belle looked at Henry expectantly.

"Alright," Henry replied, blushing a little.

 

*** 

 

Belle took some deep breaths in the kitchen as she waited for the bottom of the quiche to proof in the oven. She felt emotionally exhausted already, and it was only midway through the day. She tried not to dwell on it, but she felt like all her feelings and thoughts were a horrible mixed whirling chaos cluttering her mind sometimes, and it was so tiring. She'd have liked it very much if life were easy and simple for a change.

Perhaps she was so intensely caught up in trying to calm down so that was the reason why she didn't hear anything until a cane with a golden handle was placed leaning against the small counter and then arms wrapped around her from behind, and Rumpelstiltskin placed a kiss on her hair.

Belle leaned backwards and closed her eyes.

"More rabbit food, I see," he said with feigned amusement.

"Yes, I need you to stay alive," Belle said insistently, hoping to avoid a conversation they had already had previously more than once.

Rumpelstiltskin placed another kiss in her hair.

“Are you alright?” He asked instead.

Belle squirmed a little as she turned around and then wrapped her arms around him in return. “I'm fine. Only tired. You know.” She offered him a fleeting smile and rested her head against his chest, and his frantically beating heart.

“I know,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered, holding onto her.


	2. The Second Visit

For the feat of cycling through the woods on a bike meant for an eight-year-old, Henry earned himself a new bike. At one point both his mothers as well as his father had all been acquiring him one, but he’d arranged the matter so that each parent got equal credit for the bike.

They hadn’t specifically demanded Henry not go to the cabin in the woods again, but it had been obvious that none of them was thrilled with the idea of him going there alone. Henry had all the confidence in the world that now his grandfather wasn’t cursed anymore it was safe to see him, but Emma, Neal and Regina were all less convinced, and so Henry’s second visit was delayed, for whenever he set aside the opportunity to go, some activity or other would suddenly arise and need his attention.

Then he received a phone call inviting him directly to the woods.

Belle called him one morning, two weeks after his visit, and asked Henry to come up to the cabin while she came down to Storybrooke for the day. Henry was going to have a riding lesson with David first in the morning though, but he excitedly accepted the invitation and promised Belle he’d be at the cabin as soon after noon as he might be.

The woods were as void of traffic and people as they were on his first visit, but it was a chillier, overcast day with gray clouds and a chance of drizzle. This didn’t stop Henry from reaching his destination. If it rained, then he’d manage somehow. After all, there were a number of people ready to jump and come save him from Rumpelstiltskin at any moment. Although today they’d let him go nicely, except Neal who was in New York.

Leaving his brand new bike under a tree like the last time, Henry approached the cabin, not sure if his grandfather would be found outside or indoors, but it was safer to start with the cabin. Instead of knocking, Henry simply tried the door and found it unlocked, so he let himself in.

It shouldn’t have perhaps surprised Henry as much as it did, but there was a spinning wheel in the room, and by its side sat Rumpelstiltskin, spinning wool, or rather, having spun wool. He’d stopped and was staring at the door, but he visibly relaxed once he saw it was Henry. The wheel went back to its creaking motion again. Henry approached cautiously, feeling like he’d walked into another fairy tale again.

“Hi,” Henry said as he stopped by the spinning wheel and looked closer at it. To his disappointment there was no magic gold, only pale wool on the spool.

“Hello Henry,” Rumpelstiltskin replied. He looked the same as during Henry’s last visit, less daunting in only a blue shirt, with no dark waistcoat or jacket.

“What are you going to do with that?” Henry asked, wondering how his grandfather made the yarn so very thin, not far from spider silk.

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged as he spun. “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.” He gave Henry a sharper look then. “Cigarettes?”

Henry had forgotten all about them, and he didn’t remember even what had happened with the money, after Belle had made him promise not to bring any.

“Belle asked me not to,” Henry said, feeling a bit awkward.

That didn’t seem to surprise Rumpelstiltskin at all though, he kept on spinning. “I should have known.”

“She called me and asked me to come over. I would have come sooner, but I’ve been busy with stuff,” Henry said, trying to change the subject while explaining his absence. “Stuff and things.”

“Eloquently put,” Rumpelstiltskin said with dry humor.

“I’ve a horse, and I need to take care of it every day. David and Regina take me out riding pretty often,” Henry explained.

Henry watched Rumpelstiltskin spin for a moment in an awkward quiet.

“Can I try that maybe sometime?” Henry asked, his voice veering as well as his manner of asking.”

Rumpelstiltskin cast him an amused glance and stopped spinning again. He reached for a small runaway piece of the raw wool he was spinning out of - it must have been from Storybrooke’s only and fairly small wool farm, owned and taken care of by a Shepherdess-turned-Princess-turned-back-Shepherdess (Henry had seen her in his book.)

Rumpelstiltskin showed him the wool, and then gently pulled the airy fluff between his thumb and index finger, twisting the wool swiftly and deftly as he did so. As he kept doing that, the fluffy wool turned into roughly spun yarn little by little.

Henry stared at it like it were magic.

“When did you learn that?” Henry asked.

“Hmm. Must have been maybe seven or eight,” Rumpelstiltskin said and placed the wool in Henry’s open palm. “Did you see what I did?”

“Sort of pulled and squeezed it and twirled it.” Henry tried it himself, but his attempt was nowhere near success. The wool refused to co-operate with him.

“It’s the same with the wheel, except the wheel provides you with tension and twist,” Rumpelstiltskin explained.

Finding himself untalented when it came to handling wool, Henry discarded the roving back where it had come from, and directed his attention to other things.”So… how’s your headache?”

“You’re the most inquisitive young man I can recall having had the pleasure of knowing”, Rumpelstiltskin replied and got on his feet. He moved less stiffly than Henry recalled from their last meeting.

“I just don’t know really anything about you, and you never really… share, so, it’s best I ask, isn’t it?” Henry explained himself plainly.

“Good reasoning,” said his grandfather and headed to the corner kitchenette in the cabin, where he reached for a bottle of tablets. “The headaches are getting better, thank you for asking.”

Henry smiled. “I’m glad.”

***

Belle sat in the Cadillac outside the library, holding a list of things she’d still to do. Out of the blue, she suddenly wondered again how it was possible that the Storybrooke curse was able to teach someone things they possibly couldn’t have known. Belle was often surprised when she remembered that when Regina had turned her into Lacey, the knowledge of how to drive a car had been a by-product of the curse.

Belle remembered much too many things still about Lacey, even though she had been cursed only for the shortest time compared to the rest of Storybrooke spending 28 years in oblivion. Perhaps that was why she still felt strongly about everything Lacey that she did and felt, because it had been brief and the whole thing entirely malicious from Regina’s part. She’d really found her way under Belle’s skin.

As if summoned by Belle’s very thoughts, she saw Regina. She was walking and talking with Snow White, neither paid any attention to Belle, probably not even noticing her or the car. Belle had no inclination of attracting their attention just now, so she returned to her list. She’d managed laundry in the morning, had visited Dr Whale, had lunch at Granny’s, and she was going to get some new books from the library and buy food before driving back to the woods.

She’d written “Papa?” on the side of the list, and decided she didn’t have the energy to confront Sir Maurice of the flower shop that day. Belle endured many enough kind suggestions that she should leave Rumpelstiltskin to his own devices from Rumpelstiltskin himself, and had so again that morning, she would do quite well enough without more of those.

Belle got out of the car with her bag of books she’d already read and was to return now, wondering how many years it would truly take for the message to sink in that she was in charge of her own decisions, and no amount of well-intended persuasion from those two would make her change her mind.

She let herself in with her own keys. As she wandered in the quiet between the shelves of books, looking for something that she might find interesting, Belle found herself in the mood for taking a turn into a different direction and going upstairs into her apartment. It had been a month since her last visit.

Belle wasn’t exactly sure why she wanted to go there, not until she was actually inside, walking through a thin layer of forlorn dust on the wooden floors, going to her own bedroom, where she sat down and took another one of those long, sorrowful deep breaths she had found herself taking frequently lately.

It was safe to be worried and cry there, she thought, without anyone knowing, and so Belle didn’t mind when the sobs started and the tears rolled down her cheeks. She was tired, but she had to be brave, and strong, and she was going to save Rumpelstiltskin’s life. She did have every intention of doing so, and would continue doing that as soon as she was done with this.

Of course she was afraid. To Belle the idea of Rumpelstiltskin dying felt so unacceptable she refused to even consider the possibility of that happening. It was all much too unfair, they had barely had the chance to be reunited when his mortality had caught up with him.

And Belle had regrets. In the dark of the night when neither one of them could sleep, but all the words in their situation had been spoken, Belle imagined what it would have been like, if Rumpelstiltskin hadn’t given up on magic. Would it have been such a hardship to live with a wicked, cursed man? Belle had endured that before, and had found it much more bearable than watching her true love almost die of internal bleeding.

She wiped her soggy face on her dusty blankets on the bead and returned to the hamster wheel of her mind running through all the worst possible things that might happen at any moment. Another aneurysm, for certain. A heart attack. Or simply just a fainting spell at the wrong time and hitting his head. Anything was possible.

Was there any way out? That was questionable. Rumpelstiltskin ought to have died two hundred years ago, and Belle knew that every additional day now was a blessing. Unless his body learned to cope with the lack of magic, and unless Rumpelstiltskin managed to overcome his terrible temper, there would be no salvation for him, nor her.

The bottles Dr Whale had given her should have already have had more effect than they did, according to the blood pressure chart Belle had written. Belle hadn’t enjoyed meeting the man again, but it had to be done. There had been no sympathy for Belle in the town’s good doctor, and she didn’t wonder why, not at all. Even years later, Belle still remembered what it was like to feel gleeful over another person’s misery, like Lacey had gloated over Dr Whale being knocked down on the pavement by Rumpelstiltskin.

There was something else though, they went back further away, Dr Whale and Rumpelstiltskin. Undoubtedly Rumpelstiltskin had once said or done something to the doctor that caused… not exactly animosity, but certainly nothing good either. And if Belle guessed right, Rumpelstiltskin was at similar odds with practically everyone in Storybrooke, so now bereft of magic and wallowing in guilt since he’d gotten back in touch with more of his human side, no wonder he had a hard time calming down. Or at least that was what Belle had figured out.

She had stopped crying, and she felt empty and exhausted for it. Belle spread herself out on the bed and took some more comfortingly deep breaths. Belle closed her eyes and imagined being somewhere far, far away. On a sandy beach next to a turquoise sea, with no sounds except the waves crashing against the shore.

Even in all this trouble, she might find a moment of perfect solace in the middle of a storm. But how might she help Rumpelstiltskin find his?

***

It started to rain in the afternoon, so there was no outing around the lake that day. It was fairly chilly too, so Rumpelstiltskin had made tea for both himself and Henry, it was green tea. Henry made a face at the unfamiliar taste as he drank his, and saw his grandfather the sorcerer catch his expression.

“Tastes weird,” Henry explained.

“Prefer black?” Rumpelstiltskin queried, his eyes darting on the shelves already.

“I’m more into hot cocoa, but thanks for the tea.” Henry made an effort to be a polite guest and sipped more of the strange green liquid.

“That we definitely don’t have,” Rumpelstiltskin said, going through the assortment of tea bags on the shelves. “I did made a rather extraordinary curse, it provides the local shops with tea leaves from China,” he mused as he touched an ornate black tea tin.

“Yeah I never figured out how does stuff get into the shops here, it’s crazy,” Henry said. “And when I went to Boston to get Emma, I had to walk out of town first to find a bus line.” Henry drank the green tea down very swiftly, figuring it would go down like band-aid: The less time you spent on pulling it off, the less you’d suffer. “Did you design all that detail yourself?”

Rumpelstiltskin grinned and shook his head. “No. You know what a chameleon is like?”

Henry nodded. “Sure,” he said for emphasis.

“That’s how it works,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

“Was there an actual chameleon involved in the making?” Henry asked.

Rumpelstiltskin nodded, seeming amused for a fleeting second.

Henry almost by accident brought out his namesake, Regina’s father Henry, but decided against it. He wanted to ask why had Regina’s father had to die, but then realized it was not a very polite or stress-reducing question to ask from someone with a medical condition, so Henry beamed a smile and looked around the cabin.

“I kinda miss Mr Gold’s shop. It was great fun going there after school to look at stuff,” Henry paused, “and I think it was in your shop where I really figured things out. There were things there, in the showcases, that I’d seen in the storybook. What happened to all that stuff?”

“Belle delivered some of them to their previous owners. The rest is packed in boxes and… hidden away,” Rumpelstiltskin said.

“Like the Seven League Boots and an enchanted telescope?”

“Those wouldn’t work here,” Rumpelstiltskin retorted.

“But they would in the Enchanted Forest!” Henry said, excited.

“Didn’t you have enough of magic in Neverland?” Rumpelstiltskin asked Henry, eyes narrowing.

Henry shrugged. “I guess not. Not enough.” Henry paused to think, to really think for a bit. “I don’t know how you see it, but I grew up in Storybrooke without magic, except for the fact that people around me didn’t age at all. Nothing ever happened here, and I don’t know, maybe it was that chameleon thing working too well or something, but Storybrooke was always really, really boring.” Henry considered what he’d just said a little. “I think this whole world is really…” suddenly very self-consciously aware of his grandfather’s intense gaze on him, Henry felt like the words he was looking for were fleeing and hiding. “…sad.”

“Sad, is it?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, a curiously unrecognizable edge to his voice.

“Yes. Like it lacks something. Adventures, dragons, princesses… This world is all about routines and being dull, isn’t it?” Henry asked.

“It’s not all roses in the Enchanted Forest either,” Rumpelstiltskin replied tersely.

“But I bet you had a much more exciting childhood than I did,” said Henry.

Rumpelstiltskin frowned. He didn’t say anything at first, which Henry took to be an admittance that Henry was right.

“I think, all things considered, you’ve had an extraordinary childhood, and you shouldn’t regret having what you’ve had, Henry,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

Henry sensed he was pushing Rumpelstiltskin in some way now with his curiosity, and desire to know, but Henry was also dying to find out everything he could about where he’d come from, and the people he’d come from.

“Why do you say that?” Henry asked.

“You are surrounded by people who, despite all the terrible and foolish things they’ve done, have managed to let you grow up fairly unharmed and undamaged.” Rumpelstiltskin lifted his finger animatedly and made an abstract swirl in the air. “Regina and Snow were both brought up as princesses, but neither one led to a very happy life.”

Henry grinned. “Snow is really happy now though,” he said, happy simply for the fact that it was so.

Rumpelstiltskin shrugged, seeming thoughtful. “Yes, she rather does like living in Storybrooke?”

Henry nodded. “She wants to go back home at some point, but she’s not that upset about having to wait, as David is.” Henry sat himself down at the modest and small kitchen and dining table. There was a bowl in the middle, filled with an assortment of nuts, and he picked a few milky white cashews straight off the top.

“So did you have an exciting time growing up?” Henry asked, still munching nuts.

“Shouldn’t say so. All I did was work as long as there was light out,” Rumpelstiltskin said, sounding amused.

“You mean like child labor?” Henry asked.

“Like you, and your mother, I was an orphan, and that’s what happened to orphans in the Enchanted Forest. You get to work for your keep.”

Henry had stopped moving his jaw, feeling the hair in the back of his neck bristling at the thought of such a thing.

“So I guess it was kind of lucky for me that Regina adopted me?” Henry said, eventually.

“Lucky you, indeed,” said Rumpelstiltskin. He took another white bottle from the shelves and gave him a dose of whatever that was, before joining Henry at the table to share nuts.

“They taste like nothing,” Rumpelstiltskin muttered, and popped a walnut into his mouth. Henry wondered if that statement was about the nut assortment or about something else.

***

Exhausted and overwhelmed by her emotions as Belle had been, she woke up in the apartment above the library feeling confused and groggy, and realizing that she’d fallen asleep without intending to. She almost jumped out of the bed and started collecting her thoughts of what she had been doing.

There was rain rapping against the window, quite hard in fact.

Books, books from the library, she figured, and animated herself with all haste. She’d been asleep for over an hour, and she was still rather dull from the nap she’d ended up having. Once she was up though, she felt so dizzy and tired that she should really sit down and perhaps have some tea.

There were only the bare essentials in her small kitchen, but just enough to make one mug of tea. With that in hand, Belle headed back into the library, and engaged herself with the sections she’d had in mind, like vegetarian cooking. And fish courses (nutritional suggestions from other books.) She was afraid she was making everything taste rather bland, and there was also the matter of Storybrooke’s rather limited selection in food supplies, which just seemed to appear out of nowhere.

There was the option of going Online (a Real Magic World if Belle had ever seen one) for some of her more exotic shopping, but she’d been the chief driving force in suggesting a general Storybrooke consensus that ordering UPS deliveries to a cursed town would only serve to draw further unwanted attraction, so she thought she’d only go there as a last emergency resort.

But Neal was in New York, Belle thought, she should call him, ask him to bring some chili peppers…

Belle’s train of thought was distracted by a rapping at the library door, which she’d left locked. Belle set the books she’d piled in her arms aside on the checkout table and opened the door rather warily, surprised to see the visitor beyond.

“Hello, Belle,” her father said, cautiously, like trying to soothe a wild animal.

Maurice looked well enough, except perhaps he had darker rings under his eyes than the last time Belle had seen him, before Christmas.

“Papa,” Belle said, daring to almost smile, but she hid that away again, rooting herself at the doorway, not wanting to invite him in, not just then anyway, even though it was raining outside.

“I saw the car,” Maurice said and nodded a the black Cadillac. “Is it you both or just you?” He asked.

“Just me,” Belle said.

“So… how is he? Still alive?”

Belle gnawed on her lower lip before answering. “He’s alive, papa. I’d be much more upset than this, if he wasn’t,” she said with a sigh. “Did you come to wish him dead?”

Maurice shook his head. “No, I just wanted to see you. I heard… that you’ve been sad.”

Belle nodded curtly, and left the doorway, gesturing for Maurice to follow her indoors, and leave the rain.

“I’m just here to pick up some reading,” Belle said, and returned to the shelves took look for fiction next. Something less dense and depressing to amuse herself with in the evenings. Her father trailed after her.

“You were a good mayor, I thought,” Maurice said.

“I’m sure Abigail is as good,” Belle replied, “at least I haven’t heard any complaints about her.”

“I sort wish I’d seen you reign over Avonlea, back home,” Maurice said wistfully.

“On Gaston’s arm?” Belle asked.

“No!” Maurice sounded troubled. “That’s… not what I meant.”

Belle was quiet, she was looking at the fiction titles, reading the spines, but no matter how she tried to read them, she couldn’t make out the words, because she was so engaged in listening to the silence between her and her father.

“I guess you don’t need anyone to tell you what to do. Well, you’ve told me that plenty of times that you manage well enough on your own. But, I just wanted to come… tell you,” Maurice’s voice faltered a bit, “I’m sorry I’ve doubted you.”

Belle cast a wary glance up at Maurice.

“And I’m sorry you’re sad,” Maurice continued. “Do you need anything?” He asked.

Belle bit her lip again. “A hug might be nice?” She asked, or said, she wasn’t sure. When her big bear of a father enveloped her into his warm embrace, Belle closed her eyes and felt glad for a moment. Then she pulled back.

“Papa,” Belle said, taking a hold of Maurice’s hand with her own, trying to keep her voice calm. “Please understand, that I love Rumpelstiltskin, and if you’re here prematurely expressing your condolences over his death, because you can’t wait for that to happen,” despite her best efforts, Belle heard anger lace her voice with bitterness.

“No, Belle, no,” Maurice said. “That would be cruel. Didn’t I teach you not to be cruel?” He asked, his voice faltering with emotions, and Belle felt a sheet of ice breaking between them.

Belle hugged her father again, but just briefly.

“Thank you, papa,” she whispered, worrying that if she might speak, she might cry again, and she was all done crying for the day. “Thank you.” Belle sighed, she had many more sighs still left in her.

“So… you eat and sleep well?” Maurice asked. He was always fond of simple, practical solutions to problems, and he started from the basics. Some might have thought that perhaps too simple, but Belle found her father’s practical wisdom very comforting.

“Oh yes, both. There’s not much else to do in the woods except read and walk around the lake, it’s very restful there,” Belle replied.

Maurice frowned, and he sought for words. “Do you… know what… happened there?” He asked.

Belle sighed and nodded. She hugged herself to feel less fragile for a moment. “Yes, he told me.” Belle took a deep breath. “I don’t suppose it makes any difference, that he was cursed, and Regina had told him you were responsible for my death. Because even if there were circumstances, it still happened.” Belle looked aside a little, thinking that it had been only one of a thousand admissions of guilt.

“Has he ever hit you?” Maurice asked.

Belle thought it a fair question. “Never, ever, ever, papa,” she said, like it was a promise. She wanted to tell Maurice that Rumpelstiltskin was soft, and gentle, and kind, and sweet to her, but she didn’t, she felt she couldn’t. “He’s always very good to me. And he’s not at all the same as he was four years ago.”

“You do look tired and wretched, though, Belle” Maurice said, his concern shining out through his eyes.

“Of course I do. I love him, and he might die before the summer is over,” Belle said, surprised how calm she heard she was. Maybe it was just all the practice she’d had. Belle thought of how every week when she away from the cabin for the day, she always had her heart up in her throat, expecting to find Rumpelstiltskin dead upon her return. That day she was glad Henry was there with him.

Maurice said nothing, just nodded.

“I should get these books sorted, papa. I still have the shopping to do as well before I leave town.” Belle glanced at the shelves of fiction and just grabbed a book at random, hoping it wouldn’t be complete gibberish.

“If you’ve the time, you should come by the shop, I’d love to give you some flowers. You know, for cheering that dark place up.”

Belle smiled briefly. “How about we go there now, and you could you bring them out to the car, please?” She didn’t want to step inside the shop, in case there was a man with a chloroform bottle inside, ready to kidnap her. Belle did want to believe so much that Maurice had meant all he’d said, but she wanted to be careful in any case, she was late getting home.

Maurice didn’t take offense. He nodded, and rested his palm on Belle’s shoulder for a moment. “We can do that.” 

***

Henry began to wonder if the weather would ever turn better, or when Belle might return. There was such a heavy, quiet feeling of dread about the cabin without her, and Henry now wished she’d been there present as well. Not that granpa Rumpelstiltskin had said or done anything dreadful, but Henry found his company particularly uneasy that day, his expressions reflecting the dark rain clouds that were just above.

Henry had already called David and asked him to come pick him up, but David and Emma were busy doing some Storybrooke Sheriffing work. They’d promised to come by as soon as they were done (an adolescent witch had caused mischief by the waterfront by summoning a kraken, and Emma and David were seeing to the creature’s safe return into deeper waters, so everything was up to normal in Storybrooke.)

The most awkward silence Henry had ever recalled sharing had taken over the cabin, even though it was a silence accompanied by Rumpelstiltskin’s spinning wheel turning and the pedal rising and falling. Henry took the time to inspect every detail in the room, from the variety of tea blends to the white plastic bottles with names he couldn’t recognize, and warning signs on them.

Henry inspected the finished skeins of beige yarn laid on the mantelpiece next, and figured that Rumpelstiltskin had made quite a few during the course of the summer.

“No color,” Henry said, more to himself than Rumpelstiltskin.

“An easy matter to remedy,” Rumpelstiltskin replied light-heartedly. “You can use pretty much anything you find in a forest to make dye.” At Henry’s incredulous look he added: “There are such things as dyes in the Enchanted Forest.” 

Henry had his doubts. “But isn’t the forest just mostly green and brown?”

“That’s obvious. But you get some colour from fruit, roots and mushrooms as well,” Rumpelstiltskin said, once again concentrating more on his spinning.

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. Colours come from… places. And things.”

Henry dug out his phone. It was a smartphone, and he’d gotten it from his father for his birthday. By some bizarre Storybrooke magic, it needed no operator and was connected to the Internet automatically, a fact for which Neal had been glad. “No insane data transfer fees. Storybrooke has its perks.”

Henry did a couple of searches, until he found what he was looking for: a list of plants used in home-made dyes.

“It’s a bit like alchemy,” Henry said thoughtfully.

“Not really, there’s no chameleon blood involved for starters,” Rumpelstiltskin replied.

“How do you make golden yellow? Oh wait, I found it. Goldenrod. Well, that was obvious.” There were some other candidates as well, but Henry didn’t recognize them, or at least he didn’t think they’d be found in Maine.

“Ah, you want to turn wool into gold?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. He sounded amused.

“No, I’m just messing around. But I guess it might be… sort of… fun. I don’t really know if I want to go out and pick flowers.”

“Are flowers beneath prince Henry?” Rumpelstiltskin asked. 

“Well… you know, they’re girly things.”

“In my limited experience, I’ve noticed that girls also really like boys giving them flowers, and more often that not, that means that someone at some point, went and picked a flower,” said Rumpelstiltskin.

Henry shrugged. “I guess,” but he still felt unconvinced.

“When your father was your age, he had this young lady friend who he spent an awful lot of time with avoiding chores with, and I think young Baelfire plucked her quite a number of wild flowers at some point.”

“What happened to her?”

Rumpelstiltskin paused, words as well as spinning. “She turned soldier, and became a knight. She died in battle before she turned thirty, just shortly after.” He frowned. “I haven’t told Neal about her yet. He might think I had something to do with it.”

“But I thought you guys were doing great,” Henry said.

“On speaking terms, for the most part.”

“I want to go hunt for gold the next time I visit,” Henry declared. “I mean, goldenrod. Can we go together? I want to see medieval color alchemy. And make gold yarn with the Rumpelstiltskin.”

Rumpelstiltskin’s shoulders hunched.

“No, it’s better if we don’t,” he said.

Henry was silent for a moment. “Sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

The lights of a car that drove up to the cabin flared through the rain and the window just then.

“No, Henry, I just don’t think you should try spend any more time with a grandfather who almost tried to murder you. That’s David and Emma outside now. You should leave with them.”

Rumpelstiltskin resumed spinning.

Henry picked his bag and scurried out of the cabin like a fleeing mouse.

***

Belle returned home well over an hour later than she'd intended to do so. Driving in the rainy forest, she'd hoped Henry wasn't out there on his bike. For that reason, besides the weather, she'd driven with extra caution, and was relieved that he hadn't come across a teenage boy soaked through. The rain had only gotten worse in the course of the afternoon.

Once again back at the cabin, she got out into the rain and made a quick dash from the car to the door, hoping she wouldn't be get too drenched in those few seconds it took to cross the distance. The downpour was strong enough to get her coat wet and make her hair a mess, but that was all the damage she had to take.

There was a fire going on in the fireplace, but no Rumpelstiltskin in the room. Belle set the plastic grocery bags on the modest kitchen and dining table, and went to check the bedroom, her heart already racing, wondering if her worst fears had come to pass.

"In here," she heard his voice, and Belle took a deep breath of relief.

Belle entered the room and found him lying on the bed on his back, reading. She'd left a towel lying at the end of the bed earlier that day and she picked it up to dry her hair with.

"Did Henry visit?" Belle asked.

"Yes. David came to pick him up after the rain started."

"Good, I was worried he'd catch his death, and then it'd be my fault-" Belle suddenly heard what she'd been saying, and her breath caught in her lungs. The towel dropped from her hands onto the floor and she sat down on the bed with a sob. So far, for two months, she'd been keeping her pain private and hidden. She wanted to be nothing but supportive and positive.

"Oh, I should go put the food in the cold," she said, coughing.

But Rumpelstiltskin was surprisingly quickly on his feet, even with a limp and half-dead, and was off the bed and standing before she'd even told her legs to start moving.

"You've had a long day. Have a lie down." He pressed a kiss on her forehead and sauntered off, grabbing his cane on the way out.

Belle psat, dazed, and stared at some invisible space on the wall for a while, calming herself down. She kicked her shoes off and then twisted around to reach for the hardcover novel Rumpelstiltskin had been reading, she hadn't caught the name earlier, and she was fairly sure she hadn't brought the book to the cabin herself. There had been a few items lying about when they'd arrived, and this one she hadn't noticed for some reason or another.

Roald Dahl, Belle mused. She recalled that name from the children's literature section in the library. "My Uncle Oswald", she muttered, reading the title aloud.

"How was your father?" She heard his voice from the other room. So he must have seen the flowers, Belle thought. Belle climbed out of bed and left the book laying there before she changed rooms to speak with Rumpelstiltskin, for she hadn't the voice to shout from room to room.

"He came to see me in the library. Was worried. Apparently I look tired."

Belle sat down at the table and watched Rumpelstiltskin clear everything and find a makeshift vase for the flowers out from the odds and ends of mismatched crockery the kitchenette's cabinets were full of.

"I'm late because I fell asleep in the middle of the day," Belle said, and took some nuts from the bowl on the table. She felt awfully hungry, she realized.

"Hopefully not while you were driving?" Rumpelstiltskin asked.

"No, I was in my apartment at the library," Belle said with her mouth full of nuts. "Dinner's going to be a bit late."

"I'll handle it, if you promise me you'll go and get some rest until it's done."

Belle shook her head. "Nuh-uh, I'm not having two naps in one day. I won't sleep all night if I do."

Rumpelstiltskin put the flowers on the table.

"I asked Henry not to come anymore," he said, the tone of his voice dropping from somewhat light considerably much down towards darker.

Belle looked up at him from the flowers.

"I thought you liked seeing him," she said. Guild that she'd invited Henry now made her feel miserable, and she felt tears well in her eyes.

"I do, it's just that..." He paused. "I can barely look at him sometimes." Rumpelstiltskin reached for one of the white plastic bottles. Belle recognized it as the beta blocker. He took an extra one on top of his daily doses whenever he felt agitated.

"How's the headache?" Belle asked. Best change the subject.

"Better. That's why the reading. Enjoying this while it lasts."

Belle nodded. At least something was better.

"At least take a lie-down by the fire?"

Belle decided to decline that offer. "I think I'd rather sit here closer to you. Watch like a hawk that you don't put two sticks of butter in dinner."

"That would be hard to manage since you do all the shopping."

"You're not all out of tricks," Belle said, and smiled softly. "At least I like to think so."

Rumpelstiltskin smiled as he bent down to give her a kiss on the lips.

Belle pulled herself a bit further away, because she realized she was fast approaching being inappropriately flirty.

"We shouldn't do anything exciting," Belle reminded him, and Rumpelstiltskin left her be.

"Whale must have been thrilled when he told you about that," he said snidely.

"Not really. He was very professional about it." Belle was lying through her teeth now, but she hoped it was for a worthy cause.

"I think we should do it anyway, I'd die a happy man, everyone wins," said Rumpelstiltskin.

Belle tried to find the humor in that statement, but didn't. "Except me, I'd live the rest of my life knowing I killed my true love," she said, and popped more nuts into her mouth. "I called Neal during the day. He sent his love."

"Did he now."

Belle glared at Rumpelstiltskin. "Oh yes he did. He doesn't want you to die either, so that's at least two good reasons for you to get up alive and well in the morning."

"Chicken?"

"Yes," Belle affirmed. She left the table to go retrieve that book Rumpelstiltskin had been reading, and soon returned, first chapter open. She read while Rumpelstiltskin was busy.

"Oh my," she said suddenly. "This is not children's literature. It's like... Don Juan's memoirs, and exceedingly less romantic!"

Rumpelstiltskin laughed. "Well, for some reason the curse decided that I of all people should be in possession of that book, so I thought, why not read it. It made the afternoon fly by, I can tell you."

Belle closed the book firmly and put it on the table. She sat, staring at it, and then felt its proximity was too much. "I think I'll go put this away then," she declared and stood up again.

"Too immoral?" He asked.

"Too exciting!"


	3. A Nocturnal Interlude

Belle sat, waiting, in the salmon pink house of Mr Gold. She looked at the clock every now and then, when she wasn't watching at the windows or at the door. She saw the late spring evening turn into a darker spring night, saw the street lights turn on. At some point she realized she was sitting in the darkness herself as well, so she turned on a lamp with a colourful tiffany glass shade that perpetually amused her.

When she heard the front door opened, Belle let out a sigh of such relief that all the tension she'd unconsciously gathered during the evening were exhaled out. She got to her feet and almost ran across the room to meet the owner of the house, who was standing there, looking for her with his eyes, and she approached him, slower, more shy now.

“How was Baelfire?” Belle asked.

“A little less angry,” said Rumpelstiltskin. He was staring at her, she thought. After a moment's pause, he took his coat off.

“I brought lasagne from Granny's but it got cold. It's in the fridge,” Belle said. She would have preferred to ask him other, more private questions, but she thought they could wait at least after the lasagne before she brought on the inquisition.

Rumpelstiltskin didn't reply anything. He seemed thoughtful, and took a step closer to her. Belle mimicked him, until they were standing flush against each other, and Belle forgot everything about the lasagna in the fridge, and the questions she had about Baelfire and magic and Rumpelstiltskin's lack of it.

“Or we could just pick up from when you left,” Belle whispered.

“Anything you want,” Rumpelstilskin replied.

Belle leaned up and kissed him. She hadn't had the chance earlier in the day, since the Mayor of Storybrooke had had a busy day. She couldn't deny this was what had been on her mind ever since they'd agreed to meet here in the evening.

It was not a passionate kiss. It was more of a greeting, or a tentative confirmation that the mutual kissing permits were still in effect. It made Belle's heart flutter anyway, and she pressed closer to him as she sighed and withdrew her lips in order to cuddle against him, her head against his shoulder. She felt Rumpelstiltskin's free hand and arm grab her by the waist and pull her closer.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.

Belle let out a content sigh and wrapped her arms around him. “My love,” she replied, smiling. She moved her hand up, brushing it against Rumpelstiltskin's back and neck, until she reached his hair, and sunk her fingers there. Soft, so soft.

After they'd stood there for a while, holding each other in complete silence, Belle felt Rumpelstiltskin's hold around her waist loosen. “Do you want to move somewhere else?” he asked.

Belle let go of him slightly reluctantly. “I don't know. Lead the way.” She was rather hoping for a straightforward climb up to the bedroom, but was only very little disappointed when Rumpelstiltskin declared his intentions of having tea.

“How long have you gone without tea?” Belle asked.

“Far, far too long,” he replied with the kind of exaggerated comical eyeroll that made Belle laugh. They moved into the kitchen and she fetched the cups while he put the kettle on, and a few minutes later then were sitting comfortably on the sofa, very close to each other, cradling hot tea cups.

“You bought a new tea set into a house with three tea sets,” Rumpelstiltskin commented, now properly looking at the cup he was holding.

Belle smiled. She kicked her shoes off before she lifted her feet up on the sofa underneath her and leaned against Rumpelstiltskin. “It was a Christmas present.”

“From who?”

“Myself.” Belle sipped her tea. “I don't like the silver sets. Tea gets cold in them.” Belle also had faith that Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't destroy this porcelain tea set since it belonged to her.

“I'll try not to throw it against the wall,” he said rather meekly, in reply to her thoughts, and Belle smiled. She wasn't as much in the mood for tea as he was, so she put the cup aside on the coffee table and then just sat back and watched Rumpelstiltskin drink his tea. He seemed the same as ever, on the surface, but there was some change, some shift, that had happened to him, and Belle wanted to know the nature of it.

“I feel like I'm being stalked by a hawk,” he commented.

Belle wasn't sure if he was trying to be amused, or if he actually was intimidated by her staring at him.

“Sorry,” Belle said, “I'm just dying to hear about everything.”

“As am I, mayor French,” he replied, and Belle heard the smile in his words.

“Yes.” Belle nodded and looked back at him. “There was an election and everything.”

“Didn't they object to your... questionable company.”

Belle shrugged and a slow grin transformed her face from thoughtful to mischievous. “I think my questionable choice in company may have persuaded a few voters on my side.”

Rumpelstiltskin lifted his arm and she took the opportunity to cuddle into the crook of it. When he put his teacup aside, Belle squirmed even closer to him, almost sitting on his thigh. Belle looked at him, really looked at him again. He seemed a bit weary, compared to how Belle remembered him from the last time they'd seen.

She was about to suggest they withdraw into the bedroom and he get some sleep, when he brushed her cheek with her hand. The hand went to tangle with her hair next, and to the back of her neck. The hand pulled her up closer towards him, and Belle's heart leapt again as she leaned into the kiss.

It was deeper, more intense, much better than the tentative one they'd shared in the hallway. Belle found herself suddenly very uninterested in hearing Rumpelstiltskin's travel tales just then, and it was a good thing he wasn't giving her any. He was putting his mouth to much better use.

A small rational part of Belle's brain was telling her the reason why she'd kept falling out with him was because they never sat down long enough to talk properly about their relationship and Rumpelstiltskin's plots that couldn't stand daylight, and that this would lead to disaster again if they didn't lay it all out and talk, but Belle was in no mind for talking. She felt her whole body was tingling and getting very warm as she kept kissing him. As a rule, she wasn't often very aware of what was going on in her body, but now it was being filled with so many wonderful sensations, it was easy to block out the dull voice in the back of her mind with waves of pleasure.

“Let's talk more tomorrow,” Belle whispered when the kiss broke. She took the opportunity to climb in Rumpelstiltskin's lap and straddle him, which seemed to startle him, Belle thought, based on the sound he made in his throat, and the brief expression of confused panic on his face, which Belle had seen before, especially when Belle had been doing something unexpected and too forward.

She disregarded that. Belle felt she was more than done with waiting.

She pressed herself against him and kissed him, kept kissing him, tried to dip her tongue clumsily into his, abandoned the notion, got his in hers instead, and it was messy and strange and wonderful. Belle felt his hands and arms encircle her and keep her pressed against him.

Instinctively, she slowly rocked her body against his, and could feel him starting to get hard. Belle realized that she was doing this like Lacey would have, but she pushed that thought aside. Also, she wondered now, whether or not that was such a bad thing. Being decisive. Knowing what she wanted.

“Oh, Belle,” Rumpelstiltskin said, declaring her name with such spirited fervour Belle felt herself blush in response to it.

Belle looked down at him. “Is this alright?” She asked, suddenly uncertain with herself. She marvelled at how dark his eyes had gone.

He nodded, twice.

Then something happened. It was as if the lights went out in his head all of a sudden. One of the arms wrapped around her twitched abnormally, and went full rigid, and limp.

Confused, Belle stared at him, and it was if he didn't see her at all. He seemed to be gasping for breath, and Belle began to realize that this was far from normal.

 

Belle woke up in the darkness of the small bedroom in the cabin, covered in sweat. The air was hot and humid, but that wasn't the reason why she was shaking and panting. She got out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom to wash her face with cold water. She threw up as she was doing that, and took a moment to sit down and clear her thoughts before she got back up again and started to clean the small mess she'd made.

She wanted the acid taste out of her mouth and so as soon as she was done in the bathroom, she went to the kitchenette to drink as much lemon water as she could possible down. It was too hot and she felt dehydrated.

“Are you alright?” She heard Rumpelstiltskin's voice from behind her back.

“I'm fine. I just had a nightmare,” she replied.

“And do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

Indeed, did she want to? Belle mulled over the question in her mind. “It was about the day when you returned,” Belle said, eventually. She started washing the glass she'd drank from. “I was so scared,” she said. It was like the memory of if muted her sensibilities, for now she felt oddly numb. She had felt quite strongly about it in the dream.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“No, no, it's not your fault,” Belle said, and felt an odd twist of misery physically grab her insides. That, or it was the water flowing down. She put the glass aside and ushered him back into the bedroom with her.

Once they were back in bed, Belle almost immediately had to sit up, for she felt uneasy. Rumpelstiltskin turned on a light and grabbed her into the crook of his arm rather snugly.

“I'm sorry,” Belle said in turn.

“Yes, we're both very sorry,” he replied. “What's wrong?”

Belle shrugged. “Upset stomach, I suppose. It'll calm down soon.”

“Have I mentioned you look absolutely wonderful in your Spongebob Squarepants?” Rumpelstiltskin asked, and Belle snorted, which then broke out into a full laugh, and released some of the unwanted tension from her back.

“No, you haven't,” she said eventually, when the laugh ended with a wheeze.

She'd gotten the cartoon pyjamas just before they'd come up to the cabin. Belle had no intention of causing any unwanted excitement that might cause more ruptured veins, so she'd gone and find herself the least attractive nightwear in Storybrooke.

“I have no idea who Spongebob Squarepants is,” Belle admitted. Not even Lacey's memories could help her there. It then occurred to her that Rumpelstiltskin did know who a yellow sponge character from a children's cartoon was, and she found that curious. Then again, that wasn't so far-fetched, considering that in this world they were both characters from children's tales, somehow, Belle thought.

“You're not getting any better,” Belle said. The strange numb feeling took her over again.

Rumpelstiltskin was quiet for a moment. “I supposed you're right.”

“You're supposed to be getting better,” Belle said. She wanted to say other things too, but didn't find the words, or the energy to do them. Maybe it was because – she glanced at the time – it was three in the morning. She slid her hand against his dark blue satin pyjamas and closed her eyes.

“Well, in all honesty, I'd be dead if we think about what's supposed to be,” he muttered.

Belle shook her head. “It's not fair.” She felt hot tears slide down her cheeks, there weren't many of them. “I want you and I've waited and it's not fair.” She heard her voice break, and suddenly there were a lot more tears.

He didn't say anything, he just held her and drew a small pattern on her arm with his thumb, while she shuddered and cried.

When she was all out of tears, Rumpelstiltskin turned off the light, but they still sat in the dark side by side.

“I'll try feel better,” he said, into the darkness. “The power of positive thinking.”

Belle reached for tissue from the nightstand and blew her nose on it. “We might as well try true love's kiss,” she said with some uncharacteristic cynism, “for all the good that's ever done us.”

She heard Rumpelstiltskin laugh, and then felt his lips kiss her neck. “That last one we had, I think, was a true love's foreplay.” Then he bit her neck, and although it was gentle, it sent a jolt through Belle's body.

“Now wait a minute, we're not having any of this before your blood pressure drops significantly,” Belle said, trying to sound decisive and firm, but she could hear her own voice quiver.

“Perhaps it would work marvels on my blood pressure,” Rumpelstiltskin whispered, kissing her neck lower, where the shoulder started, “release some,” he nuzzled her neck, “tension?”

Gathering all her willpower, Belle sunk down under the think sheet, and covered herself with it up to her ears.

“I think not. Good night, I'll see you in the morning,” she muttered, and turned her back on him.

She heard him settle down as well. Then everything was still and quiet.

She felt terribly, uncomfortably aware of how aroused her whole body was now. Belle wondered if he'd notice if she nipped into the bathroom a little later and take care of it. In the end she decided not to, and just forced herself to calm down, close her eyes, and try and sleep before another unbearably hot summer day started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't actually written in public transport, but the other parts are.


End file.
